I stomped out of the kitchen.
“Sarah!” my mom called.
“Let her be,” I heard Dad say. “She’ll be fine.”
What does he know? I thought, as I slammed shut the door of my bedroom.
After supper, my parents went out for their nightly walk, one of their new routines since our move here. I was still lying on my bed fuming when Roy started yelling at me to come down and help with the dishes. I ignored him, but he kept calling me. It was annoying, to say the least. Finally, I hoisted myself reluctantly off my bed.
“I’m coming!” I shouted, louder than needed. “Keep your pants on!”
As I passed the open door of Dad’s office, I took a detour inside. I’m not sure why I did — it wasn’t something I planned to do. I guess I was just prolonging the moment I had to share a room with perfect Roy. Anyway, there, on the large desk, sat Dad’s briefcase. As a rule, it was always kept shut and locked tight whenever Dad wasn’t there, but for some reason, that night it was wide open, stuffed full of the files of Dad’s ongoing cases.
Let’s call it fate.
Now, Dad, you have to understand. To me, this was simply irresistible. I’ll admit, I’m probably one of the nosiest people on this planet. And although I do know that your briefcase is strictly off limits, at the time I was too mad at you to care. The sight of your open briefcase was just way too much of a temptation; you should have known better. My anger was immediately replaced by excitement. You know how much I love to hear about your detective work, and here was a golden opportunity to see actual files of your cases! Forbidden gold! Sitting right in front of me. What harm would one little look do?
I bounded over to the desk and looked down at the files. With trembling fingers, I began thumbing through them. Not looking for anything in particular, just looking and enjoying the feel of them — so official! Suddenly, a file labelled “Braemarie” caught my eye. That name sounded vaguely familiar. I wondered where I had heard it before. I was about to pull the file out to look inside when I heard Roy thumping up the stairs.
“Sarah! Quit being such a baby and get down here and help me with the dishes!” he bellowed.
I sprang away from the briefcase just as Roy stormed by the room.
“Hey!” He spun around and stopped in the doorway. “There you are,” he said. “What are you doing in here?” Roy’s eyes took in my hot, reddened face and the open briefcase. It was like a light went on in his head. He raised his hands in protest. “No way. You can’t look in there, Sarah. Those are confidential police files!” he sputtered, echoing the warning that we had been given repeatedly over the years. Under no circumstances were we ever to meddle with the work Dad brought home. And up until that night, none of us had ever dared to.
Honestly, Dad.
“I know, Roy.” I dismissed him with a wave of my hand. “I didn’t actually look in any of the files. Relax. Does the name ‘Braemarie’ mean anything to you?”
“Sarah! I don’t believe you. Just come downstairs.”
“I will, I will. Just think for a minute, would ya? I know I’ve heard that name before,” I coaxed.
He sighed. “Okay. Braemarie.” He thought for a moment. “It does sound kinda familiar ... wasn’t it the name on that old farm’s mailbox?”
Talk about a light snapping on. I should have recognized that name right away!
“Holy cow!” I said. “You’re right! How could I be so stupid?”
“That’s what I wonder all the time,” Roy said. I ignored him.
“That name is on one of Dad’s files!” I pointed to the briefcase.
“It’s on one of Dad’s files?” he repeated with a frown. “You mean that guy’s being investigated?” Sudden understanding dawned on his face. “So that’s why Dad made such a big deal out of you going over there.”
“You catch on quickly, Sherlock.”
Roy and I stared at each other. Wordlessly, we both grabbed for the open briefcase. Roy was a split second quicker than I was. He elbowed me roughly out of the way and had the briefcase shut and locked in seconds flat, ignoring my protests.
“Don’t mess around with Dad’s stuff!” he warned. “It’ll only get you into trouble!”
“Trouble!” I yelled back at him. “I have a right to know what’s going on since Dad won’t even let me go over there. Now I’ll never be able to look at the file — because of you! You’re such an idiot!”
Roy stood firm, his face set. “I had to stop you, Sarah. If there is something going on with Mr. Braemarie —”
“There must be! Why else —”
“— the police will handle it, not you,” he finished.
We stood there glaring at each other. Finally, I stomped out of the room.
“Whatever!” I yelled back at Roy in frustration. “Now I’ll just have to find out what’s going on there myself!” I ran down the stairs two at a time and stormed out the front door, slamming it as hard as I could behind me. I could hear Roy calling for me to come back, but nothing was going to stop me.
I jumped on my bike and pedalled madly down the driveway. My parents were in the distance returning home from their walk, but I pretended not to see them. I was too mad to care about them right then.
Dad, you should have just told me that there was something fishy about Mr. Braemarie. Instead, you kept it a big secret so that I had to go find out for myself. The hard way.
Once again, I found myself riding down our lonely country road casting uneasy glances into the darkening woods. A small part of me missed Roy’s presence — a very small part. A bigger part still seethed at his I-know-what’s-best attitude. Who did he think he was, anyway? And who did my parents think they were? They made me move up here to no man’s land and then wouldn’t even let me spend time with a new friend. The only one I was able to make!
Soon I could see the farmhouse, set back from the road, nestled comfortably among the trees. Right away, I checked the mailbox. Sure enough, the name on it was Braemarie. So Roy was right. Why did my father have a file on this guy? I had to find out, especially if it meant that Mindi was in danger. Maybe this guy was a psychotic serial killer! I gave my head a shake. I could practically hear Roy telling me I was getting carried away, as usual. Still, Mr. Braemarie must be doing something wrong. Police don’t carry files on law-abiding citizens.
If Roy had really wanted me to mind my own business, he should have let me read that file. Then I wouldn’t have had to try to figure out what was going on myself. You’d think he’d know how my mind works by now.
I stashed my bike in the trees behind the shiny mailbox so that it would be hidden from the road. I followed the driveway under cover of the thick forest that ran parallel to it. This led me towards the opposite side of the house from the approach Roy and I took the other day. I figured I’d get a better view of the entire area from this angle. As I got closer, the driveway veered off to the right, leading towards the front of the farmhouse, and a dirt trail forked to the left, leading towards the old barn. The one that Mr. Braemarie said was out of bounds to Mindi!
The house was dark and looked empty. However, there was a sleek black car on the trail leading up to the barn. A dim light shone from a small, high window. I decided to investigate. I was on the move, dodging around trees, heading towards the barn, thoroughly enjoying myself for the first time that day, when the barn door swung open and voices floated through the air towards me. I froze.
Emerging from the barn was the muscular, manure-shovelling man who I now knew was Colin Braemarie. He was accompanied by two other men, looking out of place in their dark, tailored suits. Mr. Braemarie’s cropped blond hair caught the last low rays of the sun, making it stand out in sharp contrast to the dark hair of his visitors. I could hear the low murmur of their voices, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. How frustrating.
Mr. Braemarie made some wild gestures with his arms that made him and one of the men break into gales of hearty laughter. He seemed to be directi
ng most of his conversation to the laughing man, who was quite tall and lean. The third man was shorter than the other two but looked as if he could lift up a car with little effort. He stood slightly apart from the others, looking official with his legs firmly planted and his arms crossed. He reminded me of a drill sergeant I saw in a movie once.
The men shook hands and the visitors stepped into their car. I crouched behind a tree and held my breath as the headlights of the passing car swept by me. Mr. Braemarie stood and watched until they reached the road then turned back into the old barn, closing the door firmly behind him.
I stood with a sigh. My curiosity meter was hitting an all-time high. Who were these men who visited barns at night, in suits? Why was the barn out of bounds for Mindi? I had to know what was going on! I made my way carefully through the trees. Then, wanting to get closer, I burst out into the open and sprinted, coming to a halt, gasping — more with adrenaline than exertion — with my back against the barn’s rough wooden wall. I inched my way along it, wishing there was a window to peek into, but the only windows were too high and out of reach. I needed to see what was inside! I pressed my ear against the wall. I could hear some muffled, unidentifiable sounds along with the low rumble of Mr. Braemarie’s voice. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated, straining to make out what he was saying. Who was he talking to?
Suddenly, a hand grasped my shoulder and whirled me around. I started to scream but another hand clamped my mouth shut. I blinked in terror. I was so scared, it took me a full minute to realize that it was Roy’s face I was blinking at. I punched him on the arm — hard — and he let go of me.
“What do you think you’re doing? You just about gave me a heart attack!” I whispered, pushing him away.
“Me? What are you doing? Playing spy games? Turning into a peeping Tom?” he whispered back. “I came to bring you home. Mom and Dad are ticked that you took off and left me with all the dishes to clean up. I told them I’d look for you.”
“I’ll go home when I’m ready,” I retorted, turning my back to him. “I don’t need you to come and fetch me.”
His voice grew softer. “Let’s go home now. It’s almost dark, and there’s nothing going on here for you to see.”
Reluctantly, I had to agree with him. The mysterious men had left and there was no way of seeing what Mr. Braemarie was doing in the barn. With a final glance back, I let Roy lead me through the dark to where our bicycles were stashed.
I told him about the men in suits, but all he said was, “You just can’t leave anything alone, can you?”
On our bikes, I remained a sullen distance behind Roy so that I could mutter and curse in solitude while trying not to think about the lecture I knew would be waiting for me at home.
So you see, Dad, you were the one who raised my suspicions about Mr. Braemarie in the first place — if you’d just let me visit Mindi, I wouldn’t have been spying on Mr. Braemarie. And you shouldn’t be leaving your briefcase out and unlocked with me around! You should know better! You said yourself that I don’t always make the best decisions.
My next clue that something strange was going on came directly from Mr. Braemarie himself.
MR. BRAEMARIE’S CLUE
DATE: WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 5
LOCATION: SCHOOL AND ON THE BUS
The second day of school, I walked into homeroom determined that it would be a better day. Mindi and her two friends, Cori and Stacey, were standing by their desks, chatting and giggling. They looked up as I walked over.
“Hi, Mindi,” I said, my voice bright and cheery. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like me?
“Hi,” Mindi said with a wave before promptly turning back to her friends.
Well, what did I expect? One bus ride and instant best friends? I plunked into my seat feeling dejected. Loner-ville, here I go again.
Eventually, people did talk to me. Mindi included. But Cori and Stacey kept pulling her away from me. They weren’t very friendly. Well, I guess Stacey wasn’t so bad, but that Cori ... we’re just too different, I guess. For instance, she thinks she’s great and I don’t.
* * *
At the end of the day, Mindi took the bus to the farm again, so we walked to the back of the school together. This was the highlight of my day. No kidding.
Thanks again, Dad, for making me move here. No need to bore you with the details.
Walking with Mindi, I chatted and laughed and tried my best to be witty, but to my dismay, as soon as we were on the bus, I ran out of things to say. After all, my life isn’t that interesting. So we rode together on that bumpy bus in an awkward silence for a long while. I fidgeted in my seat — searching my mind desperately to think of something to talk about. After all, I was trying to show her how fun I was. The last thing I wanted was to be boring. I tapped my foot, played with my hangnail, tried not to think about my itchy nose, but I couldn’t think of a thing to say.
Finally, Mindi spoke. I almost fainted with relief.
“I talked to Colin — my mother’s boyfriend — about you coming over after school someday,” she said, looking down at her hands.
“Oh yeah? What did he say?” I prompted, wondering how I was going to tell Mindi I wasn’t allowed.
“Well, at first he seemed okay about it, you know, happy that I had someone close by to spend time with at his place. Then later on, when I was grooming Candy and cleaning the tack, he came out to the stable and told me to hold off on inviting you over. When I asked him why, he just said things were too busy for him right now, with some of the extra business he’s doing, and he’d rather I didn’t have any friends around for a while.” Mindi frowned. “Not that I ever do have friends around. He was kind of weird about it. Sorry.”
She looked up from her hands and shrugged. She really did look sorry.
I shrugged too, trying to hide my disappointment and, in a way, relief. “That’s okay,” I said.
“It’s not okay. I really wanted you to come over. It’s not fair.”
While her indignation made me feel wanted, I also felt angrier than ever that now I had two adults stopping me from making a friend. My one and only friend.
“You could always come over to my house instead sometime,” I suggested meekly.
Mindi nodded. “I’d only be able to stay for a little bit, though, then I’d have to get over to the farm to clean the horses’ stalls. It’s my job.”
“That’s better than nothing.”
“True.”
I knew that these were only words; Mindi wouldn’t be coming over anytime soon. I got the impression that she was too in love with her horses to part with them for long.
A growing commotion behind us caught our attention. We craned our necks around to look back and who do you think we saw? You guessed it — Roy. My goofy brother. He was sitting amidst his usual fan club making everyone laugh. At that particular moment, he himself was laughing so hard he could hardly speak. A blessing for the rest of us, believe me.
“So, is that your brother over there?” Mindi asked. “Roy? Is that his name?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” I admitted reluctantly. “Please don’t hold it against me. You know what they say about not being able to choose your family.”
“He’s cute,” Mindi said, giggling.
I just about keeled over. She obviously didn’t have good taste in boys.
During the rest of the drive home, Mindi was so busy making goo-goo eyes back at Roy that I was left to do most of the talking. By that time, my brain had thawed out of its deep freeze and I seemed to have far too much to say. I ended up babbling about the stupidest things. I started off by describing the huge, unfair lecture I received from my parents for not helping Roy do the dishes the night before. My topics went downhill from there. When I began listing the kinds of pajamas each member of my family wore to bed at night, I could have kicked myself. The more Mindi stole glances back at Roy, the more I was unable to stop talking. It probably didn’t matter anyway; I’m pretty sure s
he wasn’t even listening to me. Roy had her full attention.
Finally, the bus rounded the last bend before the Braemarie farmhouse. By that time, it was pure relief to stop my monologue about stupid dog food commercials. We said good-bye, and she hopped down from the bus with one last gaze back at my dumb brother.
Be prepared, you’re going to get mad when you read this next part, Dad. It’s about how I began visiting Mr. Braemarie’s farm even though you told me not to. You know, I really thought you were just being unfair. Sure, I knew you had a police file on him, but I figured it was for something lame, like tax fraud. It wasn’t as if I was worried at all about my safety or anything like that. After all, Mindi was safe enough over there, so why would I be any different?
By the way, you have no idea how hard life is for a first-year high-schooler who is trying her best to make at least one friend. I pretty much spent the whole first week of school by myself. I felt like such a loser.
I had to go!
MY FIRST ILLEGAL VISIT
TO THE FARM
DATE: MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 10
LOCATION: SCHOOL AND THE FARMHOUSE
“Sarah, over here!” called Mindi.
I gave her a grateful smile as I entered the change room. There’s nothing like having your name called out to make you feel like you belong. Stacey and Cori watched my approach. Cori was frowning, as usual. Too bad for her. Maybe her face will get stuck like that one day. I plopped my knapsack on the bench beside them.
“I’m glad you decided to come to the tryouts,” Mindi said.
“What the heck,” I said, with a shrug.
“Do you talk as much on the court as you do in an interview?” asked Cori with a smirk.
I couldn’t help it, I blushed. I hate feeling my face grow all hot like that, but it happens. Mindi glared at Cori. Stacey giggled.
The Whole, Entire, Complete Truth Page 3